


February

by dietplainlite



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Femmeslash February, Femslash, Femslash February, Hoopervan, Light BDSM, Molrene, Multi, femmeslash, mollrene, molrenelock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A depository for all of my Femslash February ficlets.  Most will be 221b or 100 word drabbles.<br/>There will be multiple ships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red

Red lipstick on everything.  On tea cups. On mugs. On stealthy cigarettes put out in the sink and shoved into the depths of the bin.

On her cheek.  Her thighs.  The undersides of her breasts.

She has come in and marked everything. Claimed everything. Those red swatches blazing, the scent of her perfume lingering on the sheets, Molly’s hair and the jumper she borrowed because the heat is shit in Molly’s flat.

And oh Molly is dazzled, but it is clear she is also dazzling, if the look on Irene’s face when she says good morning, drowsy and soft, is any indication.

She’d forgotten what it’s like to be the object of awe, not just the one kneeling, abject.

Though there is plenty of that. In these circumstances, though, it serves to make her feel more powerful. It’s true what they say, how much power there is in handing over control.

Molly finishes the washing up, and if she neglects to clean that last bit of red from the rim of Irene’s favorite cup, it’s not from lack of care.  She is, in fact, so very careful to leave just the slightest trace of lipstick on the cup.  Enough to be noticed. Enough to elicit that wicked gleam in Irene’s eye as she says, “Oh Darling, you’ve been very, very bad.”


	2. Clementine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sally/Molly. Inspired by a Tumblr post by loryisunabletosupinate

“We need two.”

“Molly…”

“Sally…” Molly mimicked.  “They’ll get into less trouble if there are two. “

“You’re sure two won’t cause more mischief?”

“Is this the face of a mischief maker?” Molly said, holding up a marmalade colored tabby.

She placed the kitten next to the calico that Sally had chosen.  They sniffed each other and the tabby began grooming the calico.

Molly sighed.  “There’s no separating them now.  We _have_ to take both.”

Sally picked up the calico, holding it on her chest with its head tucked under her chin.  Molly thought her heart might explode.  She snapped a photo. 

“Do not put that on Instagram,” Sally warned. “People from work will see and think I’ve gone soft.”

“You _have_ gone soft .” She kissed Sally on the nose and picked up the tabby.  “Clementine.”

 “Really?”

“I love the name but I’d never give it to a baby.  It’s just fine for a cat, though.”

Holding her kitten out and peering into its bright blue eyes, Sally made a decision.  “Michael.”

“Michael?” 

“Why not?”

 “It’s a girl.”

“So?”

Molly shrugged.  “You’re right.  She’s definitely a Michael. Let’s go fill out the paperwork before we change our minds or end up with four.”

“Sure thing,” Sally said. She put her kitten on her shoulder and reached for Molly’s hand, smiling broadly.


	3. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Irene have something to tell Mrs. Hudson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came about due to some Molly/Irene pitting and Irene hate on Tumblr.   
> Also, since February ended up being brutal for me and I didn't have much time or inclination to write, I'm going to continue to focus on femslash in March.

Martha Hudson took a sip of her tea and fixed Irene with a stern look. “Now, as much as I enjoy a good egg and cress from Speedy’s, I don’t know why you two had to make such a big production about this, bringing me down here for lunch with your serious faces. I thought one of you had cancer!”

"Well," Molly said.  "Not everyone understands, not even people our age and—"

Mrs. Hudson’s tinkling laugh cut Molly off.  ”Oh my dear.  Just because your generation invented Facebook you think you invented everything?  Not only did I live through the sixties, I have eyes and ears you know.”

"I told you she wouldn’t mind," Irene said.

The older woman patted Irene on the hand.  ”I don’t mind one bit.  The only thing I don’t understand is what you two get out of it. He’s making out like a bandit in this scenario, if you ask me. And if it’s babies you want—”

"No!" Molly said, loud enough to receive a few looks from fellow diners. "No babies. At least.  Not now.  Or ever." 

Irene, unfazed, took a sip of her coffee. “None of us are really the parenting type, don’t you agree?” 

Mrs. Hudson considered for a moment while adding sugar to her second cup.  ”You’re right. But if you ever change your minds, don’t do it at the same time.  I had a friend, she and her partner did that. They were just regular lesbians who asked a friend to help out.  Anyway, they both ended up carrying twins. Can you imagine? Well, judging by those faces you have some idea. Utter chaos, and they split up before the babies were out of nappies. Which reminds me, are you giving up your flat, then?”

"Irene and I are keeping our flat and Sherlock will keep his. Sherlock wouldn’t be Sherlock without Baker Street but Baker Street can be a little…overwhelming."

"I still don’t quite get it but you’ll all do what you want anyway.  I suppose it does seem to fit, in an odd way. If there has to be a man involved, that one makes sense.  For you two."

Irene smiled and took Molly’s hand. “Perfect sense. Now, let’s order. I’m famished.”

"Yes let’s," Mrs. Hudson said.  "And you can tell me all about the sex while we eat."

Met with utter silence, Mrs. Hudson looked up from her menu.

"What?"

The two younger women looked from Mrs. Hudson to each other, mouths open. Molly broke first, sending the other two into a fit of giggles so intense they couldn’t speak to the waiter who stopped at their table.  When they’d regained their breath, Mrs. Hudson picked up her menu and sighed. 

"But really," she said.  "Tell me about the sex."


End file.
